Pages

Search This Blog

Follow by Email

Not Heaven Or Hell But This Mundane

In the territory where sun or ray is never shunDarkness and groping are form of livingIn the land where earning is by all meansThe powders for dough is dearly worth than glowingsAlliance-bait seems rosy train (whatever ripe is rotten)The truth remains, he lost the day he was bornThe very tick tock his inner being was burntTo leak the beverages better than MiloFriends and families at the burial thoughtHeaven up above is now his new homeWhere everlasting peace fondle his chest plateBut heaven mock their foolish hope'Cos heaven's gate was long ago shutEvery humans dead_ departing this earth,Whom we thought were wicked or perfectOn earth to become heavenly richAre worm and magot fed in their caskets;They do not go anywhere, not even an inch.